


The Broad Stream Bore Her Far Away

by secrettemplars (tricycleamoving)



Series: drowning in the second person [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Agender Akashi, Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Ambiguous Relationships, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricycleamoving/pseuds/secrettemplars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The sea is quiet today. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Broad Stream Bore Her Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically an au with Furihata and Akashi as mythological/paranormal creatures. Originally the idea stemmed from one of those "what mythological creature are you?" horoscope memes, but then as I was thinking about it, my philosophy class stuff (that was still stewing in my brain since I just finished my midterm for it) kinda merged with it and it created this??? 
> 
> Basically it's all vaguely sad and kinda deep, and it isn't so much of an akafuri fic as it is a fic with both Akashi and Furihata in it. Whether you read it as romantic or not is very much up to you, and I wrote it with either interpretation in mind. 
> 
> Anyway, as is standard with me by now, Akashi is agender in this fic and will be using they/them pronouns. I usually pair genderqueer Furi with them as well, but idk. I find the idea of assigning a gender to something that isn't really human kinda odd. Plus this was written in Furi's POV in second person for the most part, so pronouns aren't really a thing that I need to address for him lmao
> 
> As usual, I'll put all my notes and references/allusions to things in the fic at the end. If you're the type that likes to read with music, the song I wrote this to is Andrew Huang's cover of _[Wandering Star](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60ojBexScno)_ (originally sung by Portishead).

The sea is quiet today.

You choose to sit by the water, perched among jagged rocks as your feet caresses the waves. The rocks dig into your thighs, and if you were human you would surely bleed – but you are not human. The rocks are only a slight annoyance at best. Besides, there are bigger things in store for today, and the rocks matter not.

Closing your eyes, you tip your head back and let the sun shine down on your face, basking in the warmth. It is rare that you let yourself indulge like this, but today is a special day. You think you deserve the sunlight today, at the very least.

While you bask, you start to feel a heavy presence envelop the atmosphere, dark and foreboding. It is a sticky sort of presence, clinging to the fabric of the earth with bloodied fingernails, desperate and vengeful. Opening your eyes, you turn your head towards the presence, curious. It’s been a while since anyone’s sought you out. 

The presence takes a few moments to shift and stir, before settling and taking human form (ah, they must have been human once). It is a rather beautiful human form, you have to admit, but in the way the kelpie is beautiful: alluring yet cold. The sort that would rip you apart the moment you touched it. Their hair and eyes are the same shade of bloody red, skin as pale as rice paper, lips are a haunting shade of blue, and on their body is a ship captain’s uniform, immaculate and spotless.

They must have been stunning as a human, you think.

“Hello,” you say (and your voice rasps as you do so – it has been ever so long since you spoke).

“Good afternoon,” they reply, voice confident and unshaking.

“Are you here to visit me?” you ask, tilting your head, “I don’t really get visitors.”

“I was curious,” they say, sitting (floating?) gracefully on the rock next to you, “I had heard from someone that today was an important day for something like you.”

“It is,” you reply, “Though is it so important a day that it invites a poltergeist’s attention?”

The ghost (or poltergeist or something inbetween) shrugs and says no more. They seem content to sit here with you until it is time, which is not an unpleasant thing. You never imagined that you would have company today, but the ghost has made up their mind and honestly, you are relieved that you are no longer alone (if only for today).

“I wasn’t aware that sirens were hiding behind human forms,” the ghost remarks, “If it weren’t for the feathers I would’ve just thought you were a particularly eccentric human being, sitting amongst rocks sharp enough to pierce the flesh.”

You lean forwards and look at your reflection in the waves. Mousy brown hair, ruffled and unkempt, caress your tanned face, framing a pair of brown eyes and a button nose. There are a few freckles dusting across your cheeks, but you are sure there are more on your arms and legs. To the unknowing spectator, you look like a wandering waif, a recluse living in a rocky seaside prison, someone best left alone.

“It’s a recent thing,” you say, running a hand through your hair, “Only started a few decades ago. More humans sailing around on boats meant more humans with the sight showing up here and there, and we couldn’t risk exposure. Not anymore.”

“Why not just kill them, then?” they ask, eyes gleaming with curiosity, “You could do it so easily.”

“And then what?” you reply, lips quirking into a melancholy smile, “There are only so many humans you can slaughter before you get tired of it all. It doesn’t please me to kill, not anymore. You understand.”

“Me?” the ghost asks, eyes widening slightly in surprise, “Well, I suppose- yes. I understand. How could you tell?”

“You’re a poltergeist… or were one, I guess. You’re supposed to be destroying everything in your path, inflicting the pain that had been inflicted on you to unsuspecting humans,” you say, looking at them, “And yet, you’re here, sitting by the shore with a siren that refuses to sing. It seems we’re both tired.”

You sit in silence, looking out at the bobbing waves as you wait for the ghost’s reply. You are an old creature, growing from a naïve hatchling to a reckless siren to a tired one. You have encountered many creatures and countless more humans, and it didn’t take you long to see the exhaustion that lingered around the poltergeist. It was only a matter of time before the ghost admitted to it.

“Do you feel guilty? About the humans you have killed, I mean,” the ghost says, a faraway look in their eyes. 

“Guilt is a very human emotion to feel,” you begin to say, picking your words very carefully, “But I suppose I do feel something similar to it.”

You glance at the ghost again, and their eyes do look so, so guilty. A spark of something, be it sympathy or affection, twinges within you, and you decide to speak again.

“Tell me, captain,” you say, “Why are you here?”

“I thought I told you,” the ghost says, “I chanced upon you and decided to pay a visit.”

“I know the look in your eyes, it is the look of someone in desperate pursuit of something,” you reply, lips curved into a gentle smile, “Tell me, what is it you need from me?”

The ghost looks at you in barely concealed surprise. It is obvious that they had not anticipated this at all. They turn to look out at the ocean (and once again you catch that glimpse of longing in their eyes), before beginning to speak.

“I was the captain of a great ship once,” the ghost says (and here something dark flickers in their eyes), “It was named _Victory_ , and I sailed it with a beloved crew. Like its namesake, we won every battle that we engaged in: at one point, we were the most successful ship in the sea. Others called us the _Emperor of the Seas_.

 “We started our journey as a group of knowledgeable and capable individuals, drawn together by our love of the sea, but as time went by, as we achieved victory after victory, we grew as cold and biting as the sea-breeze. Our arrogance outshone our love of the sea, and we became cocky. We thought that we could conquer anything, even the sea itself.

 “We were wrong, of course. One day the sea decided that it had had enough, and it dragged us all down into its cold embrace.” 

“And now here you are,” you say, “A ghost doomed to haunt the earth. I imagine you spent many years dragging other ships down with you.”

“If I couldn’t conquer the seas, why should anyone else?” they reply, some hint of resent still lingering on their lips, “Or at least, that was what I thought back then. I tore ships apart, dragging person after person down with me to the depths until their lips became as blue as mine. But soon it became pointless: regardless of whether I destroyed or not, I still remained the same.

“It’s ironic, when you think about it,” they continue, letting a bitter laugh slip from their lips, “I wanted to sail the seas because I yearned for freedom. The sea was my escape, my route to freedom, but even after death I am chained. Even after death, I am not free.”

“And is that what you seek?” you ask, the waves lapping at your feet, “Freedom?”

“After I grew tired of vengeance, I started looking for a means to be free of this,” they reply, gesturing to themselves, “I encountered many, beasts and deities in multitudes of shapes and colours, and I sought their wisdom but never succeeded. Then I encountered a pale shade, not very long ago, that told me something peculiar.”

“It told you that if you heard a siren’s dying song, you would be able to find peace,” you say, “Am I correct?”

 “Yes,” the ghost says, looking at their hands, “I came here for a selfish reason, and for that I truly am sorry.”

 “But you are as desperate as you are sorry, and I do not grudge you for that,” you say, looking at the ghost with a gentle gaze.

 “What is your name?” you ask. You can tell that the ghost is hesitating, for names have power, and power seems to be something they are not willing to let go of, but you think they will tell you anyway.

 “My name is Seijuurou,” the ghost says, after a few moments of contemplation.

 “Okay then, Seijuurou,” you say, “I think… I think I shall sing my last song for you.”

 Those blood red eyes widen again, the only sign of shock showing on their face.

 “I discovered, many decades ago, that I liked it very much when people smiled at me,” you say, fingers toying with the rocks beneath your palm, “Their smiles were filled with such joy, such beauty, as if my song had given them some sort of purpose in life. I also discovered then that I liked it a lot less when their happiness morphed into pain, their gasps of excitement turning into gasps for air as they bled on the very rocks we sit on now.”

 “So you stopped singing,” Seijuurou says.

 “Any mortal that hears my song dies,” you say, sighing, “But you are already very much dead. If my final song helps you move on, then I will gladly sing for you.”

 “And if it doesn’t work?” Seijuurou asks.

 “Then at least there will be someone around to appreciate my music one last time,” you reply, a smile on your face.

 “I suppose that’s fair,” Seijuurou says, and though their head is turned away something within you knows that they are smiling too, if only a little bit. Perhaps you would get to see that smile once, before you go.

“I do expect something in return though, for my song,” you say.

“I’m afraid I have nothing to give you in return,” Seijuurou replies, “No money, no gift, not even a hair plucked from my head. There’s nothing material about a ghost.”

“Oh, I have no use for that, my friend,” you say, smiling at them, “I only ask that you stay with me until it is time. I am half-sick of loneliness.”

You fall into silence again, waiting for a reply.

“Are we?” Seijuurou asks.

“Are we what?” you ask in reply.

“Are we… friends?” they ask again, the word clunkily rolling off their tongue as if it was of foreign origin.

“I’d like for us to be,” you reply, “I don’t think I’ve had one in a long time, now.”

“I don’t think I’ve had one in a long time either,” Seijuurou remarks, looking at you curiously.

“There’s no time like the present, I suppose,” you say, and you gently place your hand above theirs, “I’m just happy you’re here.”

“I don’t think I’ve had that in a while, too,” they say, looking somewhat wistfully at your hand, hovering above their translucent one.

“Hm?” you ask.

“Someone happy to see me,” they reply.

“Well now you do,” you say, eyes softening as you look into their eyes, “… if only for today.”

“Of course,” they say in reply, and you can see something like grief or regret or sorrow flash in their eyes, if only for a second, “Only for today.”

“Come now, no need for grief just yet,” you say, turning to Seijuurou, “I still have a few hours left in me, and I’d like to get to know my new friend a bit better.”

 

* * *

 

The two of you talk, for what seems like forever.

 

* * *

 

You talk until the clouds glow a brilliant red and the sun retreats, looking as if it is sinking beneath the oceans. Seijuurou sits next to you, a small radiant smile on their lips, their hat resting in their hands. Together, you watch the sunset, and it is in that moment that a pang of something strikes deep within you. It is in that moment that you know.

Abruptly, you stand up, the rocks digging into the soles of your feet (you do not bleed, however). You turn to Seijuurou, the dying sun going to rest behind you.

“It’s almost time,” you say. Seijuurou nods, standing (floating?) up next to you.

“What are you going to do?” Seijuurou asks.

“There isn’t exactly a manual for all this,” you say, looking out at the sea, “I’m mostly just going with my gut."

Stepping off the rocks and into the waves, you wade deeper into the sea until the water laps at your calves. The salt water stings slightly. Seijuurou looks at you curiously, and you know they are waiting for an explanation.

“After… After I depart,” you say, raising your voice so Seijuurou can hear you, “My body will gradually turn to sea-foam. We sirens don’t do the whole decomposition thing you humans do, so already being in the sea would be a pretty good start on things.”

“And what will you sing of?” Seijuurou asks, floating nearer, a combination of sorrow and morbid curiosity laced in their voice.

“Whatever I want to,” you say, your lips quirking, “Though whatever I do sing is dedicated to you, of course.”

“Of course,” Seijuurou repeats (and here you can see their cheeks pinking slightly, though it’s a bit too late to really ponder on what that means).

“I…” You begin saying, looking down at the waves, “Some part of me wishes I didn’t have to go. Unfortunately, I don’t really have much of a choice in that matter.”

“Is there no way to… to stop this?” Seijuurou asks, “No spell or magic item or quest?”

“I’m afraid not,” you say, and you rest a hand gently where Seijuurou’s cheek is, staring at them with fond amusement, “Sometimes you just have to let things happen.”

“But I don’t want you to go,” Seijuurou says, and _oh_ , how _small_ they look in the moment. You can feel tears starting to gather at the corner of your eyes, but you clamp them down: There’s no need to make Seijuurou feel worse.

“You’re such an aggressive person, Seijuurou, and perhaps that’s where some of your faults lie,” you say, before tilting your head, “But I suppose that’s also what makes you so charming.” 

“No one’s called me charming in years,” Seijuurou remarks, chuckling under their breath, “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_ for spending time with a creature like me,” you say, “Especially one that doesn’t really have much time left.”

Here you can see Seijuurou leaning in, and you take a step back, your hand falling back to your side. Now wasn’t the right time for things like this (but perhaps, maybe in another life—).

“It’s time,” you say, and you take one more step further into the waves.

“I had fun today,” Seijuurou blurts out, wringing their fingers together, “Thank you.”

“I had fun too,” you say, smiling at them one last time, “I hope we meet again, Seijuurou, in another life.”

You breathe in the sea breeze one last time and look at Seijuurou, giving them your best reassuring look.

Then, you begin to sing.

 

* * *

 

The sea is quiet that night.  

Captain Akashi Seijuurou (or whatever left of them) chooses to sit by the water, perched among the jagged rocks as the waves splash straight through their feet. The rocks do not dig into their thighs because they are not mortal, and physical pain is a privilege reserved only for the mortal.

Up above, the stars shine brighter than ever. They twinkle, like a million different lighthouses trapped in a black and blue canvas, framing the glowing moon high up in the sky.

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” they ask, looking at the waves, crashing onto the shore, heavy with sea-foam.

“I think you would have enjoyed it,” they continue saying, “Though I suppose I can just enjoy it for the both of us. I don’t know where you are now, if you’re still capable of listening to me or if you’re lost to the ocean, but I’d like to imagine that you’re at peace. One of us has to be.

“I’m still here, as you can see, but I feel… different. Not in the physical sense (I am still very much a ghost), but in the way I think and feel. You and your song might not have granted me peace in the literal sense, but it has created something much like it within me, nonetheless, and for that I’m thankful.”

They pause for a moment, contemplative.

“Usually, after such an event fails to help me move on, I leave immediately. I seek out the next big opportunity and the search begins anew,” they say, resting their chin on their hand, “But I don’t think I’ll do that today. I think you deserve more than that. I think I deserve more than that.”

“I don’t know if I’ll move on anytime soon,” they say, looking up at the moon, “But I’m starting to think that it doesn’t matter to me as much. Another day on this Earth just means more time for me to appreciate it, and maybe when I finally move on I’ll be just as accepting of it as you are of yours.”

“One thing I know for sure, though, is that your song was beautiful. Thank you for dedicating it to me,” they say, before looking down at their hands, “I wish I had known you earlier. Perhaps I would be a different person, if I did.”

“Either way, I feel the same way you do,” they say, with the sort of gravity that stems from making promises that intend to be kept, “I hope we meet in another life, Kouki.”

Closing their eyes, they tip their head back and let the night-breeze blow through them. It is unnecessary for a ghost to pretend to be affected by the elements, but they do it anyway. This is the most human they have felt in a long while, and for today, it is enough.

The sea is quiet tonight, and they are at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> 1\. The title is taken from the poem "[The Lady of Shalott](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174626)" by Lord Alfred Tennyson. I was around halfway through writing this when the poem flashed in my mind, and while it isn't a 100% fit with the plot, there _is_ some resemblance so here we are.
> 
> 2\. Music choices: I actually wrote this to three different songs. The first was '[Herr Mannelig](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2kc570KwUs)' by Garmana, the second was '[The Lady of Shalott](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80-kp6RDl94)' by Loreena McKennitt, and the last was 'Wandering Star' by Andrew Huang. Out of the three I felt that 'Wandering Star' fit the fic the best, and you should totally look up the lyrics. 
> 
> 3\. About characterisation: It felt really weird writing this at the beginning, especially because I'm more used to writing akafuri as human teenagers or adults, not an old, world-weary siren and a century-old ghost lmao. A lot of the language and tone is more formal, a bit more... I guess _wise_ would be the word. Trying to keep Furihata's optimistic mindset while writing him as very tired and sad was hard to balance, so I hope they didn't come across as very out of character haha
> 
> 4\. I imagined Akashi to be a ship captain around the Meiji Period, but I could not find out for the life of me what the navy uniforms were during them, so I ended up not describing their clothes at all lol. 
> 
> 5\. _"I am half-sick of loneliness.”_ is a reference to 'The Lady of Shalott'. The original line is "I am half-sick of shadows". 
> 
> 6\. The entire last section with Akashi is written to mirror the first few paragraphs of the fic, so if you read it and felt like it was really familiar, it was totally intentional lmao. 
> 
> 7\. _"They twinkle, like a million different lighthouses trapped in a black and blue canvas"_ is a reference to the game '[To the Moon](http://freebirdgames.com/to_the_moon/)' (which is super sad and great and everyone should play it). Also lighthouses symbolise guidance, protection and hope, so that's cool too.
> 
> 8\. _“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” they ask"_. Google 'Natsume Soseki moon' and you'll see why I slipped this in. I'm a sucker for this line (it appeared in one of my [original fic drabbles](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3177273) too!) and for Natsume Soseki.
> 
> 9\. Final note now, I swear. The whole reason why Akashi has been unable to move on is because they've been too... aggressive in their pursuit of it? I briefly studied the basics of Taoism in my philosophy class, and the concept of '[无为/not-doing](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wu_wei)' stuck with me and ended up influencing the fic a bit haha. So because they've spent all this time pursuing it, trying to actively _do_ things to achieve it, they're ultimately unable to reflect and find peace. Even when Furihata is about to sing, they ask if there was some sort of spell or quest or whatever they could do to 'save' him. I think that Furihata's interaction and song ultimately lead Akashi on the path of being less aggressive, of accepting the fact that there's nothing they can actually do to move on. If it happens, it happens. They're not all the way there (esp since im not a fan of the 'this happened to me once and now i am 100% ok' thing), but they're reaching it slowly, and maybe one day they'll move on. 
> 
> So yeah, comments are always welcome, be it constructive crit, a simple "i really liked this!" or an entire essay about philosophy. These aren't my full notes, but I'd rather leave a few things ambiguous and up to interpretation lmao. If you have any questions, feel free to leave a comment!


End file.
